


Wolf in the Alienage

by Lithosaurus



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Warden, Assassination in the name of justice, City Elf Culture and Customs, City Elves, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithosaurus/pseuds/Lithosaurus
Summary: Denerim is in for a tumultuous year. A Blight is looming to the south, corrupt nobles are squabbling for power, and an assassin has murdered the heir to the Arling of Denerim in his own palace. Kallian Tabris may not have been recruited to join the order of the Grey Wardens but she still has a part to play in changing the city. She has the weapons, the skills, and the anger needed to give her people some justice- so that's what she going to do. One dead shem at a time.





	1. Chapter 1

Things snapped in and out of clarity. She was home and could barely focus on the wedding preparations around her then the world snapped into focus and she memorized the faces of the three shems who walked in with cruelly curled lips. Then her eyes wouldn’t stay open with the throbbing pain in the back of her head but they caught familiar hallways and pulled her awake. She was back in the Bann’s estate, being carried through the halls she saw every workday. Two sets of clanking armor accompanied her.

“Shh, easy.” The guard carrying her said. “They want someone with less fight. Just- go back to sleep.”

Kallian drooped and waited. Up one more flight of stairs and they were at Vaughn Kendall’s chambers. The door opened and one of the noble boys scooped her up. Kallian saw the faces of the two guards, partly hidden by their helmets. The shem carried her into the room and she saw- her brain didn’t want to see it. Shianni was on the floor and Vaughn Kendalls was on top of her.

There was a knife on the belt of the shem who had her.

The world sped up again in a rush of anger and there was blood on her hands. The noble was on the ground. The knife was in his chest, his belly, his arms as he tried to defend himself. It stuck and broke in his skull. Kallian’s scalp and neck burst into pain. She scrabbled for the hand that had yanked her off the dead shem. Fingers, delicate fingers. What had Mama said about fingers? They broke easily in her hand. His neck was only a bit harder to snap. Like a chicken or a stray dog for the soup.

“Stop! Stop or she’s dead.” Focus was back. Focus was back and showed her every detail of the scene. Kendalls had Shianni upright with a knife to her throat. Her eyes were red and her lips were bitten. Blood was on her fingernails and knuckles. Kendalls’ knife was held too tight and was ornamental more than utilitarian. His pants were unbelted and threatening to fall back down. There was a smear of blood on his bare hip.

She saw Kendalls’ scattered bottles of beer and Shianni’s firm set jaw. She saw he cousin move before it started. Kendalls’ elbow went sideways, Shianni’s head cut the opposite direction, her knees went limp, and she was on the ground, safe from the knife.

Kallian leapt forward in a fog of rage. Every bit of training her mother had ever given her went out the window. She didn’t care that Kendalls was bigger, stronger, armed, and powerful. He had her cousin’s blood on him. She pinned his right arm with her knee and got in two good hits before he kicked her off. He was towering over her with a knife in his hand, coming closer.

A halo of pottery surrounded his head and he collapsed. Shianni. A vase that probably could have been pawned for a month of food was on the ground in pieces. Kendalls’ knife was in his own throat before the confusion left his face.

There was blood on her hands. Blood on the floor. Blood everywhere, but far more of it was Vaughn Kendalls’ than hers or Shianni’s. Shianni stared. The handle of the jug was still in her hand. She blinked and her eyes darted about the room. Kallian felt like the world was frozen around her. Even as Shianni drew close, all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears.

“Kallian!” Her cousin hissed. “We have to get out!”

“There’s two guards in the alcove outside.” Kallian remembered. “We won’t make it.”

“We have to do something!”

The window had been opened to air the room. The curtains blew in the morning sea breeze and cut through Kallian’s wedding dress like icy fingers. It would make a good exit.

“We could escape out the window.” No they couldn’t, not in this shape. “No, the person who killed them escaped out the window. A shemlen. Someone was waiting here for Kendalls and killed him. It was an assassination. The nobles are always scared of that.”

Shianni’s face was in the edge of her vision but Kallian saw her brow furrow deeper. She understood the threat, the situation, the necessity. Two elves had killed nobles. The shems would kill ten times that many of them if they knew.

“Get up.” Shianni order. Her cousin dragged her upright, off the corpse of Kendalls. “How’s your head? It looks bad.”

“Not that bad. How about you?”

“Good enough for this. You were unconscious, I was on the ground. We barely saw anything. The guards brought you in and then the assassin struck. We couldn’t see their face well.”

“No, an Orlesian mask.” Kallian suggested. “We couldn’t see their face at all.”

“Good. Are you ready? Lay down and I’ll call for help.”

Kallian scrutinized her cousin’s face. Shianni was a force of nature in the alienage. Kallian was known as the quiet one of their trio, which was saying something. She could see the determination and cunning that she had known for the last decade. Even with tear-stained red eyes and blood on her mouth, Shianni looked unbreakable. Kallian let her knees fold and that strength melted away.

“Help!” Shianni screamed. “Oh Maker, please, someone help.” She bit her lip and more tears began to well up.

Kallian heard rapid footsteps outside and the world accelerated once more. The two guardsmen entered with splintering wood as they broke through the locked door. Once again, Kallian saw their faces, now shocked and terrified as they took in the scene.

Shianni pointed at the window. “That way!”

The shorter of the guards bolted to the window and stuck their head out.

“Ed! Find some reinforcements. And tell someone to get the Magistrate.”

The taller guard fled, crying for help. The other knelt next to them and took off her helmet.

“What happened?” She demanded.

Shianni took a shaky breath and began her tearful, stuttering story. The guard’s blood drained from her face but she never seemed to doubt Shianni’s words. It was working. The relief felt physical. Cold washed over her. The room dimmed and Kallian felt herself falling backwards, despite the fact that Shianni held her tightly.

-

Voices were yelling and a hand stroked her hair. Kallian opened her eyes and saw a blur of color. She blinked rapidly and managed to get more clarity on her splitting headache but not her vision.

“Kallian? Are you waking up?” Shianni’s red hair swung into view. She nodded and nearly vomited. Her head swung and she felt like the world was pitching under her.

“Don’t move too fast.” Shianni told her. “Your head is in bad shape.”

“What happened?”

“The guards moved us down here to the Magistrate’s office. He’s in there now. Doesn’t sound like things are going well.”

“The Magistrate?”

“Yes. Bann Kendalls is at Ostagar and Ser Perrin is still at Dragonmount but Bann Lendon is inside. The guard is looking for the Orlesian now and the city has been closed. The Magistrate thinks that it’s all connected to the King’s military expedition to Ostagar, that this is an attempt to weaken the nation.” Shianni whispered it all in a rushed voice like she was expecting someone to come and shut her up. Kallian brushed her fingers against the split in her cousin’s lip.

She could remember preparing for the wedding, meeting Nelaros, and the Bann’s boy showing up then…There was no Orlesian. She and Shianni were the ones that had killed Vaughan Kendalls and now they were trapped in a hallway of the palace. She could barely think straight and she had no idea what condition Shianni was in. Her cousin held onto her tightly. Kallian could hear her heartbeat. It raced like a runaway horse.

A guard hurried down the passage and into the Magistrate’s office without giving them a glance.

“Ser, the elves are demanding the release of the witnesses.” Kallian could just hear the words from the other side of the door.

“Of course. That’s what we need; the knife-ears closing ranks.” That must have been the Magistrate.

“We’ve already shut down the Alienage. They were coming before the news of Ser Kendalls’ death. The two that came didn’t even know what had happened.”

“Maker. Fine. You collect the elves and bring them here.”

“They’re demanding to see the witnesses.”

“Then take the conscious one.”

Two guards walked out of the room and ordered Shianni to her feet.

“Go.” Kallian said. “Find out who is here and tell them I’m fine.”

Shianni squeezed her hand one last time and then stood. Kallian sat up slowly and watched her cousin disappear down the hall flanked by two armored and armed humans.

“You’re awake.” A cold woman’s voice snapped at her. “Good. We need your statement.”

A noblewoman in clothes of middling richness stood in the threshold glaring down at her. A sword hung at her hip. Even with her limited knowledge, Kallian could see it was built for uses other than looking pretty.

“Bann Loren, you are not conducting this investigation.” The Magistrate warned from inside.

“My son is in the infirmary and could be dying, Vaenar.” The noble snarled. “Let me do what I can to catch whoever did this.”

Kallian’s heart nearly stopped. She felt like crumbling to the ground again. If Lendon’s son was still alive they were dead anyways.

“He’s alive, ser?” She forced her voice to sound hopeful.

“With the Maker’s blessing.” The noblewoman confirmed. “Unconscious but alive. We need to know what you saw.”

Kallian slowly got to her feet and walked unevenly into the office. The Magistrate- Vaenar, apparently- was sitting on a armchair upholstered in red and gold behind a great oak desk. Tapestries of kings and war dogs hung from the walls and framed windows with real glass panes. The man looked haggard and pale, all the worse for sitting in a sea of wealth.

“Please, sit.” He gestured to one of the chairs in front of him. It was just shorter than his. Kallian sat and kept her eyes respectfully low.

“What’s your name, elf?”

“Kallian, ser.” She answered.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a scullion in the Kendalls estate, ser.”

“I understand that it was your wedding day.”

“Mine and my cousin’s.”

“Can you describe what happened? Start when Ser Kendalls arrived.”

Kallian took a breath, risked a glance up to Magistate Vaenar’s face and then told her tale. It was nearly all truth. She describe Ser Kendalls showing up and reminding them exactly where the elves sat in Denerim’s social ladder. She describe ‘an elf’ striking Kendalls and knocking him out, that it was Shianni was irrelevant. She described their return and waking up being carried into Kendalls' room. Her heart climbed into her throat and she shoved it back down. She looked at the Bann standing behind the Magistrate, looked her in the eyes.

“The guards said that they wanted someone ‘quiet’. They were raping my cousin when they took me.”

The Bann’s face didn’t move. Kallian bit her tongue. She wanted to leap across the table and throttle the life from this woman.

“What happened next, Kallian.” The magistrate tried to steer them back to the crime he was interested in.

“The guards handed me to Ser Lendon and left. Then- I remember falling. I think an attacker might have struck Ser Lendon. I hit my head on the floor. I heard fighting and yelling then the Shianni was holding me and yelling for help.”

“You really didn’t see who had killed the other two men?” Bann Lendon asked.

Kallian shook her head and instantly regretted it. She let herself sway as her head swam.

“This is useless, Vaenar. We need to talk to the guards someone must have seen something or shirked their duty- or seen someone shirking their duty.”

“Amalda.” The magistrate raised a hand and cut her off. She didn’t stay quiet long.

“Howe will use this.” She said in low voice, as if it would stop Kallian from hearing it.

“I know. Go back to the chapel. Your son needs you and you need him.”

Bann Lendon wavered. Just for a moment, Kallian could see real grief in her face.

“Go.” The magistrate repeated with more emphasis.

With one last glare, the Bann strode out of the office and slammed the door shut behind her. The magistrate pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He made no motion to dismiss her so Kallian sat and waited. When he lifted his head, she could see a redness in his eyes.

“I am sorry that this happened to you. Vaughan…” He stopped.

Kallian wanted to yell, to demand he finish his sentence. Vaughan what? What possible excuse could you give for the man’s behavior?

“Vaughan should have known better.” The magistrate finally said. “After his mother died his father wasn’t there for him. I tried my best to help the boy but he had a lot of expectations put on him. He was to be the next Arl of Denerim. He knew that and I could never break him of what he thought he deserved because of it. When he got banned from the Peal…”

“Why are you telling me this.” Kallian gritted out.

“I don’t truly know. Perhaps you deserve an explanation for your pain.” He at least looked genuine. It didn’t make it any better. Kallian stood and placed her hands firmly on his desk.

“You didn’t stop him. And now he’s dead.”

“I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

Regret the fact that Vaughan Kendalls was dead, not the events that lead him there. She spun and walked out the door without waiting for a dismissal. She wanted to punch a wall or scream. The shems didn’t even see them as people. How could they be expected to live and improve their lot in life when the people with power didn’t even see them? Nelaros came to mind. She had no idea what the alienage of Highever was like but she knew that Denerim couldn’t be better. Nelaros was here because of her, whether she wanted it or not.

She stormed down the hallway the same way Shianni had left. She didn’t walk with the careful, demure smallness expected of servants. Her anger outweighed her caution. Voices were coming from the entrance hall when she descended into the grand room. Statues of the Kendalls ancestors flanked fine carpets with wide windows letting in the light. In the center of it, a group of guards penned in three elves; Shianni, Soris, and…Nelaros?

Soris saw her first. He immediately clutched at Shianni’s arm and called out to her.

“That’s your cousin?” One of the guards asked. He sounded tremendously put upon and frustrated. “Good. Then you can leave.”

“Ser, the magistrate wanted to question them.” One of the other men reminded him.

“We’ve been interviewed.” Kallian snapped. She didn’t have the energy to deal with more useless waiting around as the shems figured out how to inconvenience them next.

“Then we are free to go?” Shianni asked.

The superior officer stepped back and two of the others escorted them back to the Alienage. Sure enough, guards were posted at south gate when they arrived. The Alienage was on lock down. The next few weeks would be hungry ones as wages were lost. The only consolation was that they had averted a Purge, at least for a bit. Jonaley Lendon was alive but Bann Lendon had made it seem like his survival was still in debate. Kallian offered a quick prayer to Andraste that he would die. Maybe praying for his death was sacrilege but she trusted that Her Lady could weigh one life against dozens. After all, if She didn’t know how to balance deaths then who did?

Voices and faces clamored for their attention as soon as the guards let them through the gates. Kallian caught a glimpse of Valora and a few of the wedding party from Highever which reminded her of Nelaros. For all that he had been beside her during the march back she had barely noticed her. He hadn’t said a word and she had been replaying the scene of her knife piercing Lendon’s skin. How had he lived and how much longer did he have?

She looked to him now. She was pretty sure they weren’t actually married as the ceremony had been interrupted. Her mind shied away from the idea of ‘husband’. She looked up at him, he was tall enough for that. He had fine features with a long nose and firm jaw. His ears were too finely pointed but she would say that he was more than a little attractive. Shianni had seemed to think as much. He noticed her stare and looked back with hazel eyes that seemed genuinely concerned about her. He swallowed as if he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say.

“Kallian!” Her father’s voice interrupted them. Cyrion  pushed through the crowd and ran to her. She let herself be pulled into a hug and held on tight. Even if she was nearly the same height as him, she still felt as if the world couldn’t hurt her in her father’s arms.

“Kallian, look at me. Are you okay? What happened to your head. Did Kendalls…”

“I’m okay. Kendalls was dead before they could do anything to me.” She looked pointedly to Shianni. Cyrion’s face blanched.

“Right. Let’s get you inside.”

Her father shepherded them inside. He guided her to a chair as Soris and Shianni took the stairs to the apartment above theirs. Soris and Valora were supposed to move in there but who knew if that would actually happen now.  She had lost sight of Nelaros and wondered if they would meet again. This was certainly grounds for their marriage arrangement to fall through. Cyrion didn’t speak as he carefully cleaned the blood from her hair, face, and hands. The back of her head ached and she could feel places where her braids hung strangely. Ser Perrin must have ripped out some of her hair when he pulled her away from Lendon.

Who was still alive.

Kallian knew that they were doomed. Lendon didn’t have to survive, just wake up long enough to say what really happened. This ruse might have kept them alive for a few hours but the consequences would be even worse.

“Kallian? What are you thinking about?” Her father kneeled in front of her. She pressed her face into his neck and cried. The words came out between sobs. Cyrion didn’t speak as she explained what had happened and what would happen. He rubbed her back and held her when she was done.

“We will pray.” He finally said. “We will pray to Andraste to give Ser Lendon a peaceful death and let us live another day.”

“But what if-”

“Then there will be consequences but until we know what they will be we can do nothing.” He stood and smoothed her hair back. He looked scared despite his acceptance and like he was grieving already but there was no disappointment or anger.

“I shouldn’t have killed them, should I?” Kallian whispered.

“You killed an evil man. I cannot say that you did wrong. Whatever comes next, you were your own champion of the just.”

“In their blood the Maker’s will is written.” She finished the verse of the Chant. But she didn’t want her blood to write anything. She didn’t want to be righteous or light any shadows. She just wanted for the corrupt and wicked to fall.

“I’m going to see what I can do for Shianni.” Cyrion squeezed her shoulder one last time and left.

Kallian was alone. She stood and retrieved the cracked hand mirror that Shianni had bought from Alarith’s last Wintersend. Her reflection looked haggard and battered. The braids that Shianni and her had so carefully woven into her hair were ruined, just like her mother’s blood stained dress and the whole wedding day. Kallian looked back at her reflection and ran her fingers over the braids. They were the same braids that her mother had worn; incredibly fine but resilient. They had been used against her

Kallian carefully put the mirror back down and crossed the room to the bed she and Shianni shared. She pulled it aside and removed the loose flagstone beneath one of the legs. There, hidden in a small hole dug out years ago, was more of her mother’s legacy. She removed the bundle of cloth and opened it. Inside lay a dagger, a mask, and a journal. The journal was mostly encrypted but the last pages were notes written to her and her father. She hadn’t read it her since mother’s funeral. The wolf shaped mask was another mystery Adaia Tabris had never explained but the knife was what Kallian needed.

Weapons were banned in the Alienage. Every pocketknife, cane, and tool had to be approved by the guard. The Fang of Fen’Harel would never be mistaken for a pocketknife. The dagger was as long as her forearm with a curved blade and hook near the hilt that marked it of Dalish make. Rather than metal, it looked almost as if it was made of wood. Her mother had always said it was an heirloom from her family but never clarified if that family was Dalish. Kallian used to dream of running away to the Dalish and using the blade to prove herself.

The inside of the hook was sharp enough to slice through hair like water. As her braids fell to the floor around her, her fingers began to memorize the feel of the leather-wrapped hilt. Kallian inspected her face again after she disposed of her hair. She looked older, gaunter without her hair. She regretted it for a moment as she remembered the feel of her mother ruffling her curls but it didn’t last.

She picked up the wolf mask and slotted it over her face. The mirror didn’t show a scared alienage elf when she looked again. Instead, a black wolf with six sharp eyes stared back at her. An idea began to form. Jonaley Lendon had to die to ensure the survival of her family. An elf killing a noble would paint the slums red but a masked wolf? She tied the leather thongs of the mask behind her head and peered out from behind the eyes of the wolf. The blade would be her fangs and her fangs would kill the dogs that had hunted her pack.


	2. Chapter 2

The door handle rattled and Kallian yanked the mask off her face. Father hated looking at these mementos of Adaia Tabris. To him, they were a reminder of how she died. She had the mask and knife nestled in the cloth by the time she realized that Cyrion was upstairs, not outside.

“Kallian?” Nelaros spoke softly, like he was unsure how she would react.

She settled the journal on top of the weapons and tried to calm her racing heart. Had he seen anything? He would certainly notice the hiding spot under the bed. It was supposed to be their bed now, she remembered. The idea of lying in a wedding bed still made her feel sick to her stomach.

She tied the cloth and stood, holding the package to her chest. Nelaros still stood next to the doorway in his wedding clothes. They weren’t as fine as Soris’s, she noted.

“I thought you would be with the rest of the elves from Highever.” She said.

“I wanted to see you. I feel like we haven’t really talked.”

Kallian shrugged. “We haven’t. Are you going back to Highever?”

Nelaros blinked. “No. Your dowry was paid. I’m staying here. I mean- that’s not to stay I…” He looked down at his clasped hands. “My sister is using the money your father gave us to pay for training as a seamstress back home. We don’t have the money to pay your father back. And I want to start a life here.”

Kallian couldn’t imagine being put in the same position. Her family was better off than most in the Alienage so she had never needed to worry about moving in an entirely new city in exchange for a bride price. She would have done it, of course, but she wouldn’t have hated being away from her entire family.

This arrangement had been orchestrated by hahrens Valendrian and Sarethia. Her father, as one of the few patriarchs with enough coin to pay for travel to and from Highever for an entire wedding party, had his family selected. Then again, she wouldn’t have put it past him to put forward her name as a ploy to get her married before everyone new about her ‘habits’, as he put it.

“Don’t you miss you family?” She asked bluntly.

“It was just Nesiara and me. Our parents died in the pox in 22.” Nelaros answered. “And of course I miss her. There’s still post and she wants to move to Denerim eventually. There’s more opportunities for elves here. Or, that’s what we heard.”

“Today probably didn’t convince you of that.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Nelaros stood awkwardly as the silence dragged on. “Kallian, I want to get to know you better. We’re married and I want to make you happy.”

“Are we? I don’t think the Mother actually finished the ceremony.” He blinked seemed to realize she was right. “Eager to consummate?” She glared at him. She could feel herself being unfair and didn’t care.

Nelaros’s fair skin turned pink. “No! That’s not it at all. That- that’s not something that should come up until were both comfortable. I don’t know how to say this because I don’t know what I’m trying to say, really. I just want to start this the best I can.”

Kallian sighed. “You’re right. This isn’t your fault. I didn’t even really want to get married but I can’t take it back now. Can we start by trying to at least be friends first.”

“Right.” He nodded and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Nelaros. I’m from the Highever alienage. I just moved here. Do you know anywhere I can find a place to sleep?”

“We might have an extra bunk.” She smiled and shook his hand. It was a pity he wasn’t her taste. He really was quite a looker and seemed almost painfully kind.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you have there?” Nelaros asked.

“My mother’s journal.” She lied, sort of. “I was, er, just going to read it. Can I slip out for a bit Nelaros? It’s been a pleasure meeting you but I think I need some time to think.”

He nodded understandingly. “Hope to see you around again, Kallian.” She laughed at the continued charade.

“I’ll be back before too long.” She assured him.

She grabbed her bag from the hook by the door, shoved the journal and a head scarf into it and slipped out. The sun had sunk below the skyline of the alienage buildings as Kallian left. The air was bitterly cold this early in the year and her clothes weren’t meant for walking about Denerim. Just getting to the Arl’s estate was hard most mornings.

She wrapped her head in an old scarf that was grey enough to disguise her in the shadows and in a crowd. Her mask and blade were hidden in her satchel under a pile of darning. If any guards stopped her she could play the frightened rabbit trying to get home from the Arl’s estate but she dreaded what would happen if they searched her bag more thoroughly. 

Sketch’s house would be her way out. With the gate and bridge closed, the easy ways out of the alienage weren’t an option. She could climb the support struts of the bridge but it would take one guard with a lantern looking down to ruin everything. Even if she made it across, she’d have to the cross the river again upstream to get to the Arl’s estate. The Drakon River wouldn’t be frozen enough to cross safely for another month. Her only option was to go to Sketch. The twitchy elf had showed up in the Alienage four years prior with no explanation but money enough to buy an apartment on the south edge of the wall. Not rent, buy.

The building had gained a foul reputation in those years. Strange elves and sometimes even dwarves and shemlen could be seen entering and leaving the building. Rumors said he was an Orlesian spy or an apostate mage or escaped Tevinter slave. Kallian wasn’t sure she believed any of that but she knew that his house had a hole through the wall. Her mother had used it and told her about it. She also spoke of Sketch setting a price that wouldn’t necessarily be in coins.

She rapped her knuckles against Sketch’s door and pulled her shawl up a little higher around her head. A panel in the door snapped open and a set of unfamiliar eyes examined her.

“Tabris, right?” The voice asked.

It was thick with a Dalish brogue and not clearly male or female. Kallian nodded, rather than answer. The person behind the door ordered her to wait and then the panel slammed shut again. A minute later the door opened and Sketch quickly ushered her in without a word. Sketch closed the door behind her and they stood in a cramped entrance way. At the end of the short hall, light shone under the door and Kallian could hear two voices talking.

Sketch stood in front of her in robes and the Dalish elf who had first judged her loomed behind him. Maybe loomed was the right word. The woman was only an inch or so taller than Sketch but her intense stare was made all the more threatening by the harsh black tattoos on her face.

“Adaia’s daughter, Kallia?” Sketch asked.

“Kallian.” She corrected.

“Why are you here.” He asked abruptly. Crawling across the bridge supports was looking more and more promising by the minute.

“I need to get to the Arl’s estate. A piece of my mother’s jewelry was left behind and I want to get it back.”

“I heard that you and your cousin were the ones present when the Arl’s son was murdered.” Sketch commented. Kallian didn’t react. “Not talking? Fair enough. Do you need anything to make you bleed early?”

“The Hahren has what we need for that.”

“Good. Right. Put this on and follow me.” He grabbed a burlap sack from the coat hook by the door and handed it to her.

“I want to know what this will cost before I agree to anything.” Kallian crossed her arms over her chest. The Dalish elf grinned and murmured something in Elvhen. Sketch nodded as if in agreement.

“Alright. How’s this; you tell me what you actually did in the Arl’s estate when you get back.”

Kallian had blinked in surprise. She had been expecting some sort of favor exchange or sexual liaison, not mere information. But it wasn’t merely anything. Telling him her plan would be admitting her guilt, would leave a gap in her alibi, and leave her vulnerable to blackmail or a thousand other shady things she couldn’t imagine. And that wasn’t even considering the fact that Sketch had seen straight through her lie, possibly with magic. But she needed to stop Lendon from talking so she took the burlap sack and pulled it over her head.

She could see bright white light through the weave of the sack as Sketch lead her through the doorway. He pulled off her sack and she found herself in what looked to be a cramped wardrobe. Robes and jackets hung around them. She flinched when she realized that Sketch had a handful of magical light in his hand rather than a lantern. He knelt and pried loose a false back. A tunnel stretched before her.

“You’ll have to crawl.” He warned. “You’ll come to a false end on the other side of the wall. It’s just an illusion rune. If you know it’s fake you can pop right through it. The other side is the back room of a friend’s establishment. If they ask, say your Sketch’s guest.”

Kallian nodded and knelt next to the hole. It look like it stopped yard in where the stone wall ended but if she squinted she could see something was off with the texture of the rock.

“Good luck, Tabris.” Sketch said and then left the wardrobe and crossed the door behind him. Without his mage light, Kallian could only see a small sliver of glow through the doors. It was enough to see where she needed to go.

“Do you think she’ll make it back?” The Dalish asked Sketch.

“More importantly, what do you think she’s going to do?” A new voice asked. “I heard that one of Kendalls’s little friends survived the attack.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Sketch brushed off their questions. Kallian stared at the dark hole in front of her. The knife in her bag felt heavier with each passing moment. But she knew what she had to do. The tunnel was narrow and dark, the cold earth drew the warmth from her hands and legs, but Kallian knew what she had to do.


	3. Jonaley Lendon

Two city blocks had never felt so long. Kallian felt as if every eye in the city was on her. The fact that not another soul was on the streets only made her feel more exposed. A head scarf covered her ears but anyone who got a closer look at her face would see the glimmer in her too-big eyes and know she was an elf.

A night soil collector clattered by with his cart and nodded to her. The city may have been under curfew but the guards probably made exceptions for work as vital as his. The stench of his cart distracted her for a moment but there were more unpleasant things in her future.

She had worked in the Bann’s kitchens for years. She had spent a fair amount of time running about the whole estate on odd tasks. Gathering herbs from the cooks private garden was probably her favorite task. He might be an irredeemable tosser but he kept a beautiful garden full of fragrant herbs and beautiful flowers. The plants edged up to the high wall that kept all the unpleasantness of Denerim out. Each one had a purpose, unlike Lady Kendalls’s rose garden on the far side of the estate. If Kallian had lingered there a bit while picking fresh rosemary or lemon thyme, who could blame her?

Lingering served her well now. A few years ago, she and Nola had found that one of the drainages near the herb garden was missing its grate. They had used it for sneaking out stale bread or the occasional half-empty bottle of hootch. Now, Nola was dead by some shem’s blade and Kallian was going to sneak _in_ something.

The gutter that ran under the wall and out into the merchant district ran low today; a small mercy. Kallian crouched between the tailor shop butted up against the wall and the gutter. All lay still and calm. Not a whisper caught her ear and the weak moonlight showed empty streets. With trembling fingers, she removed her mother’s mask from her bag and tied the ribbons that held in in place. She had expected the red-tinted glass lenses to make the world even dimmer but if anything they brightened the alley. She pulled the hood of her jacket up over her ears, secured Fang in her waistband, and removed her shoes.

The cold bit into the soles of her feet but she’d rather deal with cold toes and good traction than walk back to the Alienage with wet feet. She stashed her bag against the tailor shop and glared at the gutter. The water would be freezing but there would be no getting around that. Kallian took a deep breath. She had to remember what was a stake.

If she thought the first step was awful, it was nothing compared to the cold that sunk into her bones as she inched through the narrow passage on her belly. Water soaked her through and the smell of old food made her want to wretch. She steadfastly focused on the potato peelings and not what other waste was put down these gutters.

The herb garden had never looked so foreboding when she emerged on the other side. The moonlight caste strange shadows and made the familiar garden feel as alien as the moon. Freezing cold and terrified or not, Kallian had to push on. The infirmary was mercifully on the second level, not the third, fourth, or basement. If she could just find which room Lendon was in, she could…what? Kill him and immediately get caught, dooming them all the more? No, she to make sure she wasn’t unmasked and the best way to do that was to go unseen.

She walked along the outside of the estate, counting windows and comparing them to her mental map. Light shone from several rooms of the infirmary. A rose trellis against a balcony provided ingress and few bleeding fingers. She pressed her ear against he crack in the Orelsian-style window and listened. Footsteps, a few murmurs, and little else. Slowly, oh so very slowly, she jimmied Fang’s point in the latch and pried it open. The oiled hinge swung open without a sound.

The rich carpet felt phenomenal under her toes. She took a moment to wiggled them in the plush fabric before inching down the hallway. She took a moment to settle each foot, just as her mother had shone her when sneaking up on Father or her cousins. Old floorboards like these creaked and a single creak could be the end for her.

The first door from the window was cracked open a hair. She peaked into the room and spotted a chamberlain fidgeting with a tapestry over the window. It was the Towers Age one that had caused such a stir when it had been replaced earlier that month. The seneschal was convinced one of the servants had stolen the moldy old thing and nearly had them all whipped. Another noble brought it around before that happened. The dealer had delivered it to the wrong estate on accident and almost had a dozen people whipped.

She peered through the keyhole of the next door and saw nothing Bann Lendon asleep on a four-poster bed. Fang itched at her belt but she had to find her son first. The third room was more dimly lit but she could see Jonaley Lendon laid out on a near identical bed to his mother’s. The door swung open without a sound and Kallian stepped up to the edge of the bed.

Jonaley’s face was deathly pale. If he wasn’t drawing shallow breaths she would have thought him to be dead already. The foul smell of herbal tinctures and infection caught in her throat. He would die, without a doubt. Fang wouldn’t even need to be unsheathed. A pillow over his face would snuff the life right out of him. It was a better death than any rapist deserved.

Kallian picked a pillow off the armchair next to the bedside. Her fingers were trembling. Why were they doing that? She had killed two people already today. Why would one more half-dead man matter? She knew she was doing the right thing. She had to be. One life in exchange for the Alienage. She knew in her heart that she had to do this but…

‘All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands, from the lowest slaves to the highest kings.’ She knew the verse by heart. Could she really kill another person in cold blood?

Yes. She could. She covered Jonaley’s face with the pillow and gritted her teeth. For a heart thudding moment, nothing happened. His sides began to seize as his lungs struggled to draw breath. Kallian pressed down harder. His limbs shuddered and shook. She bit her cheek and waited. He lay still and still she waited. People could survive for minutes without air. Berrin, one of Soris’s mates had gotten pulled under by a loose rope at the shipyards and stayed in the water long enough for his skin to start turning blue. When they pulled him back up, he puked water like a fountain and never quiet was as sharp but he lived.

Each heartbeat that she waited felt like torture. She had left the window open like an idiot. Someone must have found it by now. A floorboard creaked one level above them and Kallian jumped. The pillow slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. She anymore movement but nothing came. Carefully, she pressed her fingers to the noble’s neck to find a pulse. Nothing. He was dead.

Kallian looked down at the corpse. She wanted to feel satisfaction and relief but her heart pounded. Her stomach threatened to empty itself as the enormity of what she had done rushed over her. She had killed another person. By her hand, another was dead. It wasn’t in the heat of battle or an accident. She had made a series of deliberate choices and now Jonaley Lendon was dead.

She put the pillow back on its chair and backed to the door. She bumped into it with a muffled thump and winced. Sloppy! She was all useless if she couldn’t get out of here unseen. She was down the hall and out the window before the second wave of nausea hit her. Thin bile burned at her throat as she slid back out the gutter. She grabbed her bag from its hiding spot and fled through the streets.

If anyone saw the dark, hooded figure with a strange mask dashing through the back alleys of Denerim, they didn’t do anything. The sturdy stone of the Alienage wall supported her as she caught her breath and shivered in the cold. She still had to answer Sketch’s question and find and possibly explain her absence to Nelaros and her father. Her finger’s shook as she untied her mask. The matte black jaws of the wolf that had seemed so encouraging that evening now seemed far more threatening.

Kallian wrapped the mask back up and tucked it into her bag. The secret entrance was far harder to find than it was to leave. She had to focus on the landmarks and force herself to remember it was there before the stone gave way beneath her fingers. The false door to the cabinet was closed when she finished crawling through the passage. The grim Dalish opened it after she knocked and shoved a sack into her hands. She was led back through the house in darkness. Sketch was waiting for her with a mug of tea when the sack was ripped off in the entry way.

“So, did you do what you needed?” He asked.

“Yes.” The earthenware mug was sending pins and needles through her fingers as they warmed. She stared down at them rather than face the apostate.

“And?”

“I killed Jonaley Lendon.” She whispered.

“Hm, how?”

“How?” She repeated.

“Yes,” Sketch gestured for her to continue, “describe to me how and why you killed him. I have my ideas about what happened today but I need to know. You did agree to my price after all.”

And she was regretting it. With a deep breath, she started. She kept the details as sparse as she dared. Today was painful enough without repeating it all in front of a stranger with unknown motives. When she finished she took a sip of the tea. It warmed her from the center out and sent fresh energy rushing through her veins.

“Good thinking with the pillow.” Sketch said after a series of thoughtful hums. “It will bring that much less attention to his death. Now, we need to worry about this Orlesian.”

“It was a ruse.” Kallian reminded him.

“I know. But we need to sell that ruse. Did anyone see you? With the mask on, that is.”

“No? I don’t think so.”

“Good. How’s this; two nights from now, I’ll let you out again. You’ll let yourself be seen in the high district by a few people and then disappear but into the shadows. Later this week, something else will happen that the nobles will want to blame on Orlesians. This wolf will make a good excuse.”

“You _want_ me to be seen.” She repeated.

“Yes. We need more witnesses than two frightened elves.” Sketch explained. “Just a few sightings get reported and suddenly every shadow has a wolf lingering in it. Every missing spoon will be the wolf’s fault for a bit. No one will expect some elf can do all the things the rumors will attribute to it.”

“You sound very certain.”

“I am.” Sketch shrugged. “Now, I believe that you should return before your absence creates too many issues.” He collected her cup and ushered her to the door.

Kallian walked back across the frozen mud of the Alienage. A few others were out and about. Someone was enjoying all the wedding booze in the north apartments. Might as well, considering.

The house was quiet when she snuck back in. Kallian stripped off her wet outer clothes and bundle up in a pair of worn wool socks and her long nightgown. The energy from the tea was wearing off as she tip-toed across the room towards the bunk beds she and Shianni shared. Her cousin’s usual snores were muffled tonight. Kallian’s hand hit something soft as she reached for the covers.

Right- Father was sleeping in this bunk now. She had to share with Nelaros. She stood, frozen stiff at the idea until Cyrion rolled over and sighed in his sleep. She couldn’t stand here all night and it would be better to get it over with while Nelaros was asleep. Why was the idea of crawling into bed with a man nearly as threatening as killing one?

She padded back across the room and felt her way around thee blankets until she felt an edge. The sheets were already warm as she slid under the layers of sack-quilts. Nelaros was close enough for her to hear his even breaths. The dip in the mattress made it feel like she was falling into him. There was no way she could sleep here tonight. She wanted her od lumpy mattress back, the one that stabbed her in the side all night. She was used to that; this was far to new.

Kallian forced herself to close her eyes. Rather than fall into the memories of dead shems or fears about wedding beds, she dredged up the nights she would spend practicing dagger holds in the kitchen with Adaia. It was calming to think of the smooth motions of her mother as she demonstrated the slices, thrusts, and strikes Kallian needed to remember. Despite all her fears, she slowly fell asleep thinking of her mother’s strong hands.


End file.
